We all have musical happy places. Y’know, that certain vocal style or guitar tone or even decade-specific production tic that transports us like the meal at the end of Ratatouille to joyous remembrances of times past. My comfort trigger? The fuzzy guitars favored by ’90s era female-fronted grunge.
This seems be Sub*T’s happy place too, making their full-length debut, How My Own Voice Sounds, a delightful discovery. Now hailing from Brooklyn after first meeting cross-country on social media, duo Grace Bennett and Jade Alcantara showcase their love of artists like Juliana Hatfield, Liz Phair, and Veruca Salt by creating their own album that sounds ready for “120 Minutes.” Or, if you’d prefer a younger reference point, Sub*T would slot nicely alongside Momma or Bully (which makes sense since both bands’ members have produced their prior EPs).
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Lead-off song and single “Overcomplicate” sets expectations perfectly as a bright riff takes you into chugging guitars. While poetically detailing a fading relationship—“I’m on the ground among the scenery / You’re floating through life / trying to stay above everything”—the song hugs its melodic hook with fuzzy guitars.
That’s maybe the best way to describe this entire album, actually: the warm embrace of fuzzy guitars. I’m not even sure how I’d write this review without using the word “fuzzy.” The band builds each song atop an engulfing and vibrating wall of sound, giving the album a consistent sense of movement and sadness, whether the song is a driving rocker (“Standing Room”) or a head-banging slow-burn (“Nokomis”). All the distortion also allows the band’s catchy pop hooks and dynamically crisp drums to shine by contrast. This offers respite from the music ever feeling too dirge-like. Instead, it becomes the kind of album I’d have regularly reached for in that still-mad-but-ready-to-go-out-again stage of a break-up.
The duo’s deadpan vocals fit this vibe as well, sounding melancholic but well-punctuated by moments of sweet harmony, particularly on the stand-out single “Mirror Image.” Together, they reveal Bennett and Alcantara’s age and perspective: old enough to have seen shit, but young enough to not be bitter. Or as they nicely put it on the somehow equally meditative and anthemic “Imaginal Cells”: “I want rage then I want hope.”
However, for all the fuzzy fun and sharp grunge-pop instincts on display, I do feel like I have a better sense of who Sub*T likes than who the band is. As stated at the top, I love their influences, but combined with lyrics that frequently skew vague, I’m not sure they’re living up to the album title quite yet. The one song where I do feel like I get to hear more of their own voice is “Too Much,” a dreamy number that retains the big fuzzy guitars without feeling built entirely around them, and its lyrics—begging for a show of emotion from a cold lover—has a more personal urgency. Here’s hoping they continue to grow in this direction.
But for a debut, How My Own Voice Sounds is a solidly fun time machine that I’ll be blasting anytime I want a fresh trip back to the ’90s.
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